All Rise...

Judge Clark Douglas's review is based on a real-life crime story.

The Charge

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The Case

If you're not familiar with the long-running television series The
FBI, the primary piece of information you need is that the show was endorsed
and overseen by none other than J. Edgar Hoover. As such, The FBI is
precisely what you'd expect it to be: a no-nonsense, conservative, largely
humorless crime drama that devotes an inordinate amount of time to celebrating
the greatness of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Our hero is Agent Lewis Erskine (Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., Batman: The Animated Series), a
hard-working agent who always gets his man. Always. He's assisted by the young
Special Agent Jim Rhodes (Stephen Brooks, The Interns), a similarly
devoted agent who always gets his man. They both report to Arthur Ward (Philip
Abbott, The Young and the Restless), the assistant to the director of the
FBI (Hoover's presence looms large over the proceedings, but he is never seen).
Ward is responsible for making sure that his men always get their men. Over the
course of the series, Agents Erskine and Rhodes get a whole bunch of men: bank
robbers, serial killers, extortionists, runaway prisoners, etc. The FBI:
Season One, Part One presents the 16 episodes spread across four discs:

Disc One • The Monster • Image in a
Cracked Mirror • A Mouthful of Dust • Slow
March Up a Steep Hill

Disc Two • The Insolents • To Free
My Enemy • The Problem of the Honorable Wife
• Courage of a Conviction

Disc Three • The Exiles • The Giant
Killer • All the Streets are Silent • An
Elephant is Like a Rope

Disc Four • How to Murder an Iron Horse
• Pound of Flesh • The Hijackers
• The Forests of the Night

I really wanted to like these first 16 episodes of The FBI, despite
the fact that it's basically J. Edgar Hoover-approved government propaganda. The
series it most strikingly resembles is Dragnet, another show that A) based all of
its episodes on real-life cases, B) featured a no-nonsense protagonist lacking
any significant moral flaws, and C) unrepentantly celebrated the government
crime-fighting organization it represented. However, The FBI frequently
proves as lackluster and tiresome (particularly in large doses) as
Dragnet was crisp and involving.

The most immediate problem is that Agent Erskine is the kind of guy who
makes the average life-sized cardboard cutout seem like an unstoppable party
animal in comparison. It's not the fault of Zimbalist, who delivers his dialogue
persuasively and does what he can to inject some measure of humanity into the
character on occasion (these early episodes at least grant him an opportunity to
act like a regular human being from time to time; as the series progressed the
character would shed these elements). Few shows can overcome a tiresome
protagonist. The fact that the protagonist has an equally tiresome sidekick
doesn't help matters much, as Agent Rhodes adds very little of value to the
scenes he appears in. Zimbalist and Brooks have zero chemistry together; failing
to generate sparks in the bland scenes in which they discuss the motives of the
villains.

The hour-long format was typically used for crime dramas of the era, but I
can't help but feel The FBI could have benefited immensely from adopting
Dragnet's lean, tight half-hour format. Almost every episode feels
injected with filler, as scenes tend to meander and there's not much sense of
momentum. The dull, no-room-for-gray-areas approach to the material adds to the
tedium, as the characters are generally split into two basic categories:
"With us" and "Against us." The self-congratulatory nature
of the program feels even more irritating than it might have been simply because
the show fails to entertain; we could more easily accept that the L.A.P.D. was
awesome because, well, Dragnet was awesome.

Still, the show isn't a complete failure. The guest stars get to have some
fun on occasion, as the villains of the program are generally permitted far more
interesting personalities than the heroes. Consider Jeffrey Hunter's intense
turn as the guy who strangles a woman to death with her hair (!), or Robert
Blake's quivering performance as a Native American who unintentionally
participates in a murder. Also appearing in this collection are such noted
players as Robert Duvall (The Apostle), Beau Bridges (The Fabulous
Baker Boys), Dabney Coleman (Boardwalk Empire), Leslie Nielsen (The Naked Gun) and Burt Reynolds (Smokey and the Bandit).

This Warner Archive release delivers a somewhat disappointing transfer that
features a good deal of softness, scratches, flecks, dirt, and grime. It's not
awful-looking, but I'd say it's a notch or two below par for most television
releases of the era. Sound is a bit better, with the robust score (featuring a
striking theme by Bronislaw Kaper) coming through with clarity. There are no
extras of any sort included.

The FBI: Season One, Part One is a show which has aged rather poorly;
a dull, unlikable product of its time and J. Edgar Hoover's moral code. In
addition, Warner Archive's $40 price tag is a bit steep for a half-season of
television presented in standard-def. Still, fans of the series should be happy
to have the opportunity to revisit this quaint program after all these
years.